Literature club meetings were the high point of my high school career. To the point I tried scripting some of my favorite conversations.
- Lit Club Conversation 1:
Lit Club President: I’m a certified bibliophile. When you give me a book with the cover torn off, I’ll still read it, but I’ll be like, “Your dog ate it?”
*Frowns, standing to post a hand on each hip.*
Lit Club President: Why did you let your dog get a hold of it? - Lit Club Conversation 2:
Lit Club Treasurer: *Holds up a single book with both hands proudly.* This is my new favorite novel; best of all, it’s written in standard American.
Lit Club President: Standard American?
Random Club Member: Oh, that’s great. I speak standard American! - Lit Club Conversation 3:
Lit Club Vice President: You’ve always been the type to torture your characters.
Lit Club Treasurer: What are you talking about?
Lit Club President: Remember P.J.
Lit Club Treasurer: Don’t blame me!
*Stabs finger at laptop*
Lit Club Treasurer: P.J. made his choices.
Lit Club President: *Rolls eyes with a smirk.* Are you sure you didn’t make P.J. do it.
Lit Club Treasurer: *Holds a hand high and vows.* Positive.
In high school, I was shy to the point that it was rare to hear my voice, but during Literature Club, I learned it was okay to let your voice be heard—chaotic moments and all.
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